


She

by hellcsweetie



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Character Analysis, Character Study, Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:47:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24081541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellcsweetie/pseuds/hellcsweetie
Summary: The women in Harvey’s life.
Relationships: Donna Paulsen/Harvey Specter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	She

_May be the beauty or the beast_

_May be the famine or the feast_

_May turn each day into a heaven or a hell_

_She may be the mirror of my dreams_

\- "She", Charles Aznavour

*

**Lily**

Some say every boy's first love is his mother. Harvey doesn't know if that was true for him, but his mother was most definitely his first heartbreak.

Growing up, he had always been closer to his father, an absolute Daddy's Boy. Everything that made him larger than life in Harvey's eyes was exactly what made him lacking as a parent: his absence during boring, daily life; his permissiveness; his willingness to relax all rules and break all promises in the name of fun and good memories. So, to Harvey, before she was anything else, his mother was mostly his father's opposite. She'd push where he loosened, instill discipline as his father incentivized spontaneity, demand effort where Gordon expected flow.

It took Harvey decades to recognize the value in that, to recognize that exactly because she was so different from his father, she had been a good mother.

But she also hadn't.

Harvey doesn't think he will ever forget the way the guilt curled up inside of him, stretching out its tendrils between his organs, gripping his heart in a vice. Sometimes its presence was so real he felt suffocated by it, short of breath. He unlearned how to be around his father, how to be easy and loose, because if he let spontaneity free he might spontaneously do something stupid like talk. And so Harvey started to resent his mother, not only for what she did to Gordon, but for what she made Harvey's relationship with him become.

Typical childish frustration got topped with anger, confusion, fear, a deep feeling of inadequacy, shame. All these emotions he was hardly equipped enough to name, let alone decode and process, it all got thrown together into a pressure pan and one day it just exploded. Lily had not only ruined her marriage; she had ruined his father's love, Harvey's childhood, his family. His innocence.

It wasn't just that Harvey had found out that parents were fallible, flawed human beings; he had also found out that parents could deliberately - or, at least, knowingly - hurt their children. He felt used in a way only his mother was ever capable of making him feel. 

With time, and especially after they both left, she became a staple, a synonym for all he deemed bad in relationships. She became a symbol for how people abuse each other's trust, how they put their own feelings above each other. She became a life lesson on how women lie and cheat, how dangerous they are. How you should never open yourself up to one.

Lily ended up having a bigger impact on Harvey than he even knew. Without him realizing, his character, his actions, his behavior were all shaped by her. In his suffocating fear not to be like her, he spent the better part of his formative years trying to be precisely what she was not. In the midst of his adult maturity, he would eventually come to understand that trying _not_ to be like her played a much bigger role in turning him into the man he became than any of the other things he actively did.

Lily was also the one woman in his life he initially forbade himself to understand. Where with other people he was always looking for a way in, with Lily he was constantly locking himself out. He was afraid that understanding even an inch of what she did, what she felt, would mean empathy, and empathy could evolve into care. Into forgiveness. And so she was one of the only people Harvey never tried to decipher. He didn't want to understand what led someone to do what she did anyway.

With time, his mother became a character, an allegory. She was no longer the woman; to Harvey, she was just the deed. He became detached from her, distant in a way that sometimes made him forget he even had a mother. Until it all came crashing back into him with surprising force. She _was_ a woman, she _was_ a person, she _was_ his mother. Whether Harvey liked it or not; whether he _accepted_ it or not. And, in his effort to keep her away, to reject what she did, he allowed her to have a much larger space in his life than he'd ever wanted. The best way to reward himself, to forgive the little boy he'd once been, was to forgive Lily and to set them both free.

Once he truly understood that, something shifted. The image of her, once so flat and amorphous, slowly morphed into a three-dimensional human being, someone flawed, yes, but someone who was also capable of love, care, joy. She became a woman again, a woman Harvey learned to appreciate and relish. A woman he finally became able to accept taught him not only valuable things, but good things, too. She became a mother again, and he was no longer an orphan. 

That feeling, that recognition of his mother and her motherhood, calloused and persistent and repenting and errant and true, was so strong he never felt distant from her again, not even after she passed.

**Jessica**

If Jessica ever heard Harvey saying she was the mother he never felt he had, she would most certainly slap him silly. 

But, in a way, she was. They both knew that.

Jessica was the first person to truly believe in him. Not in the optimistic, overly enthusiastic, often delusional way his father did, but in a measured, confident way, a way that made it feel like she'd done all the math before betting on him and still thought he was a good hand. The way she believed in him made him believe in himself too.

He used to be scared of her at first, because even when she was just one of the many senior partners at Gordon Schmidt Van Dyke he already knew she was a force to be reckoned with. He could always see the storm brewing inside of her. 

And then she started throwing him dares like she was throwing bones. He didn't just want to prove to her that he could be the lawyer she saw in him, he _actually_ wanted to be him. The ferocity had always been inside of him, that isn't something you can learn, but the drive came from her pushing him harder and harder, further than he ever imagined back when he was a mail boy at a big law firm. 

And Jessica's love was of the tough variety; it's hard to remember the rare instances in which she ever had a nice word for him, a kind gesture. She wasn't kind and she wasn't nurturing. But she was there and real and fierce, always ready to stand guard over him like a lioness guards her cubs so long as he didn't cross her. Because, on the very few times he did, he saw she wasn't really like a mother. Because she was capable and willing to tear him to shreds and feed him to the dogs in a way most mothers wouldn’t.

Her guidance was demanding and draining and ellusive, her teachings often disguised or buried so deep Harvey could hardly recognize them. She molded him in fire and made him into his own toughest competitor and never, ever spared him. Jessica has never cut him any slack and as much as that has grated him it was also one of the greatest gifts anyone has ever given him. She was a mirror, someone who was never afraid to expose him to himself. She was never soft in her corrections, never compassionate in her reprimand.

But her presence was a constant, a shadow he was glad to exist under, even when he didn't know it, even as he fought for his name on the wall instead of hers. Because, Harvey realized eventually, being under her shadow meant being under her wing. He'd always known he was her protegé, long before she gave up her license and committed crimes and laid down on train tracks for him.

And he likes to think he gave back, too. Not just the challenge and the thrill she always craved, but the recognition and the honor. And a crapload of money and wins, too. Harvey was never too shy to drop her name into the conversation, never afraid or above exposing the connection, because as much as he wanted to make a name for himself - and he had - he had always been unfailingly proud of being connected to her. She is one of the most spectacular women he has ever met. Never mind that she was the first and only black woman to become the most powerful lawyer in the most powerful city in the country. Jessica _shined_ , wherever she went and whomever she was with, and Harvey would never think himself too grand to bask on that.

And Jessica also instilled in him the most important traits he could possibly have as a lawyer: grit, creativity, hard work and loyalty. She had always made it clear that she expected that from him, regardless of cases and success and rewards. She had always given him that, even when he didn't know she was giving it, even when her giving it looked like the exact opposite. But she had, and he had, too. No matter how many years pass, no matter how many name changes or city changes or circumstance changes, Harvey will always, _always_ be loyal to Jessica, and work hard for her, and pour all his grit and all his creativity into whatever she needs him to. 

Because she was a guiding light and Harvey wouldn't have gotten any of the things he wanted if she hadn't taken a chance on that shy, scrawny kid. She had been his mother figure and his partner and his mentor and he knows now that a lot of his career was really only him trying to make her proud. He hopes he has.

**Scottie**

Scottie was a challenge ever since that first Thursday night at the campus pub after their last Civil Law exam of the semester. He had never met anyone like her, still hasn't. She was predictably unpredictable, always keeping him on his toes. And she went about their relationship as she went about everything else in her life: a wild glint in her eye, an impressive readiness to fight 'till there was only one man left standing - usually her.

She was fun and carefree and exhausting, in every way. Harvey and her matched in the way they clashed. She wanted to cram when he wanted to drink, he wanted to fold when she wanted to push, she loved seducing him in the library and trying to get him to get her off in secluded hallways in the Hastings. She called him out on his bullshit when he wanted support and he agreed with her antics when she wanted a fight. They were always honest with each other and could read each other well, but never truly let each other in.

At first, she embodied what Harvey wanted from a relationship. Never too many strings, never any real expectations, but the constancy and familiarity of an old acquaintance - an old friend.

He wasn't afraid to be arrogant, cocky or petty near her because she was all those things, too. She understood the dark corners of him, things he was too ashamed to work through, and she didn't care. In the beginning, he thought that was love. 

Obviously their relationship became difficult with time.

They grew up and the prospect of secret quickies in the pub bathroom, mile high club memberships and arguing their cases as if they were having sex in the middle of the classrom became less attractive, less relevant than other things. Than connection.

Harvey thinks they could have been good together, if only they'd met later on. He remained too hung up on the girl, on the version of her that was reckless and inconsiderate and challenging, to truly see the woman, the one who was vulnerable and open and lonely. He couldn't reconcile the two quick enough to know how to handle her; all his knowledge of her had been stuck in the past and it didn't quite fit anymore.

The way he treated her in the end remains one of Harvey's biggest regrets. She deserved better from him. She at least deserved more honesty. 

He had wanted to be better for her, to make it work. But it turned out that, no matter how much he has always respected her and cherished her opinion and valued her as a colleague, the man she wanted wasn't a man he was willing to be. Mostly because it wasn't a man he particularly liked. 

Scottie had always been extremely smart and witty and talented, but she didn't make him better. If anything, they brought out the worst in each other, always flaring up their mean, competitive streaks. And as much as he loves arguing, and going head to head, and throwing punches, at some point you just have to step off the ring.

He felt like he was always sparring with Scottie, even after she had already laid down her gloves. And he could never truly recognize her generosity, even as it nudged him in the direction of becoming a better man. She gave him good years and hard truths, sometimes at the expense of her own goals; she was a good friend and a great match. And she throws mean right hooks.

**Zoe**

For all that he never truly thought his relationship with Zoe would go very far, she was the first woman who made him want to try.

The thing is, she wasn't just smart and witty and quick, like Scottie. She was kind and trusting. Things with her were easy. She wasn't naïve or foolish, but she took him at face value. They could have dinner anywhere, drink anything, and it was still fun. He felt light with her, probably because it was so low stakes. He was never in love with Zoe, never even close, but being with her sometimes made him wish he would be. Just to see what it would be like.

She was unexpected in the way that the things she had, things that had always terrified Harvey, suddenly didn't seem so terrifying. Baggage, a family, hope. Her accent was sexy as hell, too.

Being with Zoe was like a glimpse through the looking glass; he got to see what a normal couple outing was like, what a Sunday afternoon could be, what a regular man could say and a regular woman could reply if only he weren't so stunted by his own fear.

The beauty of his relationship with Zoe was exactly its downfall: it was never real. Once he decided to be honest with himself, he was able to recognize that, the whole time they'd been together, he'd been fooling them both, unwittingly and even unwillingly. He was able to be the man she thought he was and it pleased both of them, to see that he was capable of anything other than the harshness he always felt under the surface. She painted him a picture and it was so pretty he went along happily.

Things ended without closure, around a semicolon. She had to hurry back to Australia, carrying a grief so big he wouldn't have known what to do with it. And it was better like that; they were both able to pretend that that thing between them could ever have gone beyond the honeymoon phase of domesticity. 

It hadn't always been smooth sailing, obviously. There had been cracks in the illusion; fights and harsh words and his true self peeking out. The mock trial and the absolute obviousness of his priorities. But she had never paid any of it too much thought and it had been a blessing at the time; it was probably because she didn't really understand the relevance of it all. She thought those were the exceptions, not the rule, and a part of him had been grateful for it.

He has always been fond of Zoe, liked the way she seemed to see right through his bullshit while still thinking he was better than he actually was. It was like they had made a pact together, an unknowing promise to pretend like they worked and like the cracks wouldn't eventually widen and swallow them whole. 

Havey liked the man she made him out to be, maybe exactly because it was so far removed from who he actually was at the time. She was sweet and she laughed easily and she talked about future plans in a way that felt undemanding and casual but also rang true. She was something foreign to him, in more ways than one; someone his back-then-self wouldn't have been able to handle in the long run because he wanted superficial and difficult as a way to punish himself for all the mistakes he didn't let the years erase.

But some of that hope ended up brushing off on him. Zoe was the idealized fantasy, but she also became a tiny glimmer of possibility; a snapshot of what he could one day have if only he would let himself.

**Paula**

If Zoe had been the first woman who had made him want to try, Paula was the first woman he actually _did_ try with.

At first, before they became anything more than a professional relationship, he thought the point was to give her the right answers. In a sense, that feeling stayed with him until the very end. He never did understand that she was instead trying to get him to ask the right questions.

It started with therapy, and he came about it all wrong. He wanted to check the appropriate boxes that would lead her to give him the pills that would in turn allow him to dim the mess inside his head just enough for him to be able to stuff it all back inside the little box in his brain where he kept all things too paralyzing to face.

Obviously she had seen right through him in a second; she was a good therapist, maybe too good to make a good girlfriend.

It took her a while but she was able to drill into him that he would not be getting any pills until he faced the reason why they were needed in the first place. He would not be getting any better until he looked himself in the mirror. So he gritted his teeth through the pain and let her peel his eyes wide open.

And afterwards, clinical understanding felt close enough to soul gazing. His biggest difficulty had always been letting people in, and she had opened him right up with a scalpel and reached inside and he figured that was essentially the same. Regardless of how, she now understood him and that had been a step further than any other of the women he had gone out with. She had seen him bare and neither of them had run to the hills and he mistook that for love.

Paula had been right at that convenient spot where she was close enough to break through the surface but far enough that he could still see her. And she had given him peace enough times that she had started to resemble it. And after so much running, so many punches, so much fighting, peace seemed like just about all he could wish for. She was warm comfort and recognition, and an unprecedented promise of simplicity because she was all low risk and high reward. She was exactly what he needed, exactly what he had never managed to find. Exactly what he fooled himself into wanting.

And when she told him that her fantasy was him, a fancy car and a charming line, it felt almost too easy. He already was all that. There was no room for disappointment.

He tried, so hard. And until he understood, truly understood in earnest, that easy had never been what he was looking for, not really, his biggest disappointment about the fact that they didn't work out was just that - that his efforts hadn't been enough. Few things in his life had made him feel like more of a failure than his relationship with Paula. Because he thought he had wanted it enough. He thought he had given it all he had to give, not knowing that a part of him had already been given off from the start.

Paula had been a lighthouse, a guide to the things he didn't know ran so deep inside of him. She had helped him realize the hold his mother still had on him, how bad he truly was at letting go and how much he needed to learn how to do that.

She had also shown him, clear as day, what he could never bear to let go of.

Afterwards, he felt like he should have known. And that's why he never really resented her; it was all so obvious, how long gone he had already been, that he couldn't blame her, not really. It had been his fault, his own fault for treating the whole thing like a hole she would fill. It had been unfair to her and just plain pointless because it would never have worked anyway.

It felt diminishing and horrible to admit, but in the end Paula had been a stepping stone, a checkpoint. She had shown him how good it felt to be understood, how vital it was for him to be with someone who just got him. But she had also reminded him that he was a true betting man, and he could only ever be happy laying it all on the line.

.

.

.

.

.

**Donna**

When Harvey thinks of Donna, he thinks of need. 

Harvey spent most of his life wanting things. He wanted to be like his father, wanted to be a hotshot lawyer, wanted money, fame and power, wanted this girl and that. He wanted a reputation, good enough to be respected, bad enough to be feared. He wanted the doors to open up for him.

And want has led him through the years, fuelling his drive, powering his moves. Want made him fight. 

And need was never something he liked to admit to, always thought it exposed his underbelly. He was never comfortable with the notion of being dependent on something. 

Except, of course, when it came to Donna. 

It was always so easy to say how much he needed her, that should have been his first sign all those years ago. He said it to Cameron Dennis, said it to Jessica, when he needed to convince her to let him be the only associate with an assistant. He’s basically said it to whoever will hear it, and he’s said it to her, many times, even as he struggled to tell her everything else.

He has always needed her, basically ever since her second day at his desk at the DA’s (because he spent the first one too proud to open himself up to her). He has needed her in ways big and small, meaningful and silly. 

He’s needed her to tell him what to wear and what to say, who to say it to, how, when and where. He’s needed her to arrange, rearrange and disarrange things, meetings, problems. He’s needed her for food, coffee, drinks, cold showers. He’s needed her from cracks of dawn to late nights and all the hours inbetween. He’s needed her high and low and happy and most of all when he was sad.

Donna is essential to him in a way nothing ever was and it’s precisely the kind of thing you only notice once you compare it to its absence. 

He only fully understood how much he needs Donna when he realized how much he does not need anything else. His firm, his license, his freedom, it has all been put on the line for her and it was shockingly easy to let it all go, every time. Not even New York, his longest-standing love affair, was as indispensable to him as Donna. 

Having her by his side makes him feel invincible in the sense that it makes him feel complete. The part of him that he always thought was missing had been with her all along. She smooths over his edges and seals up his cracks like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

For a long time he needed her guidance and her advice to be a better person, to become a man he actually wanted to see in the mirror. He thinks he’s doing better now, but he still appreciates her gentle nudges from time to time.

Donna embodies everything the other women in his life gave him in fractions. The direction and support he has always needed from his mother and Jessica; the challenge he could spot in Scottie’s eyes, her willingness to push him; the silent confidence he found in Zoe, the unwavering belief that he could be better; and the soothing relief of being this deeply known, something Paula scratched the surface of.

He needs Donna so completely because she _is_ everything he has ever needed. 

And this feeling has terrified him and devastated him. It gave him panic attacks and kept him up at night. No matter what, nothing has ever been as real as the fear of losing her and having half of him yanked off along with her. And that was why he used to lash out, to keep her at arm’s length, to claw his way to her in desperation. 

Now he still feels it, though he tends to think about it less often, more in context.

Now the need isn’t as poisonous anymore. It makes him whisper he loves her in the morning or when she’s baking, it makes him endure home renovation shows and brides shopping for dresses, it makes him buy her flowers and put up with her aunts and work extra hard to be someone who can look inside himself and grapple with what he finds there and spell it out in words and actions.

His need is something he holds dear now, cradles against his chest, something that makes him glad for being wrong about all the other things he mistakenly thought he needed before.

His need is light and bright and it shines along with her smile, tingles his skin under her fingertips. He wants her, yes, so much, all the time. But he _needs_ her, and that’s his favorite part of himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, full disclosure: I really like Zoe. I know many people in the fandom don't care much for her but when I first watched the show, before I got really into Darvey, I actually thought they were really good together and was genuinely disappointed to see her go. Also, what Paula did regarding Donna was wrong and horrible, but I don't really see her as the big bad wolf in her relationship with Harvey. They both made mistakes and that relationship shouldn't have happened in the first place, but I believe she was a bit of a victim of her wishful thinking, as was Harvey.


End file.
